The Inhuman Genome Project
by gram-positive
Summary: Season 5 AU. As an agent of SHIELD, Melinda May is no stranger to death. However, following a bloody encounter with the Kree warrior Sinara in Earth's future, May must pay a price beyond physical scars. As her fellow agents grow distant and ghosts from their pasts refuse to stay dead, Melinda May begins to fear betrayal, even from the very genes that make her human.
1. Chapter 1: Inhuman Transfusion

**Author's Note**: This narrative follows directly from the conclusion of S5:E4 "A Life Earned." It explores an alternate storyline in which, rather than resulting in her capture, Agent May's battle with Kree warrior Sinara leaves her fatally wounded. Left for dead in the Lighthouse, Melinda May must rely on her fellow agents to bring her back from the brink. However, the fallout of innovative Kree medical technology is more than the agents bargained for, making the agents question exactly what it means to be human.

_Chapter 1: Inhuman Transfusion_

Melinda May was in pain.

And she was pissed.

The fog was just starting to clear from her head when she jerked awake. She hissed in pain, reaching for her shoulder. She expected it to come away covered in hot blood, but all she felt was a rough bandage. "What..." she muttered, confusion muddling her brain. Where was she? What happened to that crazy blue Kree lady with the floating metal spheres of death?

Melinda shifted slightly and hissed in pain again. _Damn this crazy space station. Why couldn't they have just one mission on Earth, _their _Earth?_

She pushed herself up into a sitting position with the heels of her hands. But even that was agony. By the time she could rest her elbows on her knees, she was panting in pain. Melinda swung her head side to side blindly. Something was blinking in the corner of her eye.

Then hands were pushing on her uninjured shoulder, urging her onto her back. Panic surged through her like an electric current, and she lashed out at her unknown assailant. She knew she managed to strike someone because he let out a startled exclamation. Caught in her small, blind world, Melinda felt a smug grin pull at her face. Even on the brink of consciousness, she would go down fighting.

He caught her next strike easily, her fist curled inside a large, warm hand. She struggled vainly, pulling against his grip. Sounds streamed past her ears, rushing by like a current too loud and too fast to hear. A few sounds, however, managed to trickle in to be translated into words.

"You need to hold her down! She's going to reopen her wound if she keeps moving around like that."

Her injured arm was now clamped firmly to her body by another warm, calloused hand. Still, she thrashed against her captor.

"Seriously?" The English accent of the woman's voice struck a chord, but she couldn't place it among the fog in her mind. "May, can you hear me? You need to stay still, okay? You're injured and if you reopen those wounds, you may bleed out."

Melinda stilled for a moment but her heart was still pounding in her chest. Another hand, smaller and softer, brushed her wrist. She jerked away, growling out what were meant to be threats but probably came out as indiscernible sounds.

Then, "Melinda? Please, you need to stay still for Simmons. I know you're scared, but we're here, and you need to heal."

Something in the voice made her still. Something was floating on the edge of her mind... Affectionate smiles. Expressive blue eyes. Teasing jabs. A warm embrace.

"Phil?" She breathed.

"It's me, May. I'm here." The hand released her fist, lying it gently against her chest. Gently, his hand cradled her face, fingers skimming her forehead. He brushed her hair away from her sweat-soaked face. "You just need to lie still so Simmons can work her magic. Does that sound okay?"

Somewhat placated, Melinda nodded.

"Thank you, Coulson." Simmons sounded relieved. "Hopefully she hasn't torn anything. Fitz? I need you."

"Me? Why me? You know I don't do well with... oh god, uh, that looks bad..." The Scottish accent was replaced by what sounded suspiciously like a mixture of hyperventilating and gagging.

"Fine." Simmons clipped out. "Watch the corridor then. Make sure no more of those Kree guards come back. Coulson, you're with me."

Already, the lights were dimming in Melinda's eyes. Exhaustion pulled at her lids, tempting them shut. "Phil," she managed to get out. She had to fight it. There was too much unsaid. Too much she needed to tell him _now_ before it was too late. "Phil..."

"It's alright, Melinda. Trust me, you won't want to be awake for this part. I'll tell you everything when you wake up."

_No_. he didn't understand. It had to be now.

But the world was already darkening around the edges, and that long gray tunnel was so inviting. Her limbs sunk into heaviness and her eyelids slid closed. Vaguely, she was aware that something was burning. A terrible agony in her shoulder, just above her heart.

"I'll be here. When you wake up, I'll be here. I promise."

* * *

Gone.

Like a broken circuit, his mind repeated that word on a loop. After everything— _everything—_ it had only taken a moment alone with a Kree lady-killer to turn their world upside down.

"_May," he called out, circling the science lab. He stopped by one of the lab tables, stumped. They'd searched the whole lab. She'd been here. Right here. He could've sworn... something black in the corner of the room caught his eye._

_He pushed off the lab table, grasping the leathery material in his hands. May's jacket. Likely flung there in the midst of battle. She'd be wanting it back._

_Then he noticed the hole. Punched through like bullet. The size of a pool ball. Covered in blood. _Her blood_._

"_May. May!" His eyes darted around wildly. "She has to be here!" He called out to the others._

"_Sir," came a soft, English voice. Simmons. "Sir, over here. Come quickly..."_

_He shoved his way through the overturned lab equipment, bounding around lab tables. Then he saw her. Lying prone on the floor. "No, no... Melinda!_

_He reached her first, even before Simmons. He grasped her shoulders, gently turning her over._

"_Careful, Sir! Careful! We don't know what kind of internal damage she suffered..."_

_The moment he saw the hole in her chest, the rest of his world disintegrated._

"Sir. Sir, please."

Grudgingly, Coulson raised his eyes. Simmons stood before him, a wet cloth offered in her hand. "Please, sir. It'll help, I promise."

He lowered his eyes to his hands. Stained crimson with her blood. He looked up at Simmons. "I don't think that'll wash it away," he croaked out. Simmons swallowed and blinked heavily. "I don't think anything will."

Simmons draped the wet cloth over his hand. His prosthetic hand. "I'll keep you updated," she whispered. Simmons gently squeezed his hand. "May is tough. She's a fighter. And the battle isn't over yet, sir."

So he picked up the cloth, clenching it in his bionic hand as he examined the one with veins pulsing beneath its surface. And he scrubbed. He scrubbed until his skin was raw, but the stain remained.

* * *

The second time May awoke, the world formed slowly. As she drifted on the edge of consciousness, she was vaguely aware of chills running down her skin. She stretched out her hand, fingers searching for something unidentifiable, uncertain, unattainable.

_Where was the warmth that had been beside her for all these years? When had it left?_

Andrew's name was on the tip of her tongue but something made her hesitate. Something was out of place. That wasn't the name that was imprinted on every memory. That wasn't the name that held more meaning in one word than a year's worth of explanations. That wasn't the name that her heart yearned to call out. Not anymore.

Eventually, her hand did contact something, but to her disappointment, it wasn't what she'd been looking for.

Cold, hard metal.

May managed to peel her eyes open for a moment before they snapped shut again. She grunted in frustration. _Why did everything simple have to be so damn hard?_

She took a deep, calming breath, before forcing her eyes open again.

Something was blinking in the corner of her eye.

As the fog cleared from her eyes, she was greeted by an expanse of industrial steel beams and fluorescent lights. _The Lighthouse._ Of course.

She was lying on some sort of a makeshift cot in small deserted room. Steam whooshed from the pipes above as water leaked from unseen cracks, drip by drip. Everything was covered in rust.

Voices drifted in from the hallway. Melinda shifted forward a few inches, listening. The door at the entrance— rusted and half hanging off its hinges— provided a slight obstruction to her view. The two figures whispering in the hallway, however, were unmistakable.

Fitz held both of Jemma's hands in his. He was whispering softly to her while she watched him intensely, tears trailing silent tracks down her face. Simmons responded to some enquiry, turning her head away from him. Fitz reached out, his hand gently cupping her chin as he turned Jemma's face toward him again. He whispered something to her, his thumbs brushing away her tears. Jemma nodded, closing her eyes. Seemingly somewhat placated, Fitz brushed his nose against Jemma's before kissing her softly.

May looked away, falling back against her cot. Something about that quiet moment felt so personal, she seemed an intruder, even to herself. May wasn't known to be sensitive to others' feelings but there was just something about those two... seeing them torn apart went straight through everyone's hearts.

May narrowed her eyes. She wasn't sure what it was, but something felt... off. That's when she became aware of a soft beeping in her left ear.

She froze, holding her breath. But that only accelerated the beeping.

May sat bolt-right up. The beeping when wild. Her ear was burning from the noise as she whipped her head to the left, prepared to face whatever was assaulting her hearing. Nothing was there. Just rusty old pipes.

Hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway. Voices mixed, filtering in from the hallway. "Oh c'mon... really, now?" "This bloody thing again... I swear— oh May, you're up."

Jemma and Fitz pulled up short of her. Both seemed out of breath, but given their previous activities in the hallway and the speed at which they'd sprinted in to check on her, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised. However, their postures were also unusual. Jemma had both her hands out in front of her as though approaching a frightened animal. Fitz's eyes were darting between her and Jemma, a cold hardness solidifying in his eyes that spoke volumes. The coldness startled her; it was a look that belonged to battle-hardened criminal, not a nerdy and gentle scientist. It told her he would do whatever was necessary to protect Jemma from any threat.

And currently, that threat was her.

May's training immediately kicked in on instinct. She laid both her hands down harmlessly on either side of her. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at both of them. "What's in my ear?" She ground out as politely as she could manage.

"Ah, that. That's just a heart-rate monitor. Nothing to worry about." Jemma flashed her a smile that was likely supposed to be comforting. It only served to make Melinda more nervous.

"It's driving me crazy. Is there anyway to shut it off?"

Jemma hesitated, glancing down at Melinda's arm. Melinda followed her gaze, taking in the tangle of wires and tubes and blinking blue lights looped around her arm, several feeding into veins at the crook of her arm and at the bend of her wrist. "See, the heart-rate monitor seems to be an integral part of the machine and if it's disabled, we're not sure it would continue to—"

Melinda's eyes darted up to Jemma's, her gaze narrowing in sharp suspicion. Dread was building in her throat. She'd seen something like this only once before... _it couldn't be_. "What did you do to me?" She demanded, clenching her fist, the wiring and tubing pulling like chains against her skin.

Jemma swallowed hard and steeled her expression. "The only thing that could be done. I saved your life with Kree blood."


	2. Chapter 2: Kree Antibodies

**Authors Note: **Hello Everybody! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed this story! I'm truly flattered you like it. I have plans to make this a longer, multi-chapter plot, so stay tuned.

Without further ado, here's chapter 2.

* * *

_Chapter 2: Kree Antibodies_

Melinda stared at Simmons. "Kree blood?"

Simmons took a deep breath, as though preparing to launch into a lengthy scientific explanation of the medical uses of Kree blood, before deflating. She dropped her eyes, looking distinctly defeated. All that came out was a soft "Yes."

May sat up straighter, examining her arm. She watched as the blue Kree blood filtered in and out of her veins and arteries. Combined with the pulsating blue lights of the wires and the rhythmic beat of the heart rate monitor, it was almost beautiful. Melinda looked up from the hypnotic light show. "Why am I not dead?"

Fitz gave her an odd look, but Jemma beat him to the punch. "It's a piece of Kree medical technology that's been adapted for use on inhumans. Supposedly it's designed to filter out the foreign Kree antigens while retaining the regenerative properties of—"

May cut her off. "Inhuman? I'm not...?"

Jemma shook her head. "No, no. You're not. We would certainly know by now, if you were."

"Then how..."

"It's complicated. While Terrigenesis does alter a subject at the cellular level, it typically does not affect the immune system. The DNA alterations affect nearly every cell in an inhuman's body, but it only targets very particular attributes of those cells. In Daisy's case, it allows her cells to be compatible with tremendous amounts of stress caused by powerful shockwaves when she quakes. However, her immune system and circular system retain their original characteristics. She still has an AB negative blood type and is as susceptible to the common cold as you and me. Those are connected to different parts of her genetic makeup—"

May shook the fog from her head. On a good day, listening to Fitzsimmons could give her a headache. Today, she just needed the essence of this scientific jargon. "So, what you're saying is that it won't kill me?"

Jemma bit her lip. "What I'm saying is that inhumans should be just as susceptible to Kree blood incompatibly as you are. It's the same concept as ABO incompatibility. Since you're type B positive, you have B antigens and RhD antigens on the surface of your red blood cells; that means your immune system will accept both type B positive or negative and type O blood positive or negative, since type O contains no antigens. Just as the presence of antigens from type A or type AB blood would prompt your immune system to launch antibodies in a massive attack against foreign invaders, Kree antigens would cause a similar response. If you were to suffer from massive blood clotting or hemorrhaging, that should have already occurred. Your blood appears to be interacting with the Kree blood as though it were its own. However..."

May resisted rolling her eyes. "How did I know it couldn't be that simple."

"We have no idea about the long-term effects of the Kree blood. As far as I know, this piece of technology has never been used on a human before. The only other human I know of who has survived an injection of compounds containing Kree blood is—"

"Coulson."

Jemma nodded. "Exactly, with the GH.325 serum. And as we know so little about his recovery—"

Melinda cut her off. "That's not exactly true. Fury tasked me with overseeing the later stages of his recovery." She admitted.

Images flashed through her mind. Anguish. Agony. The torment of an unknown past. Of unreachable memories. Of nights upon nights with Coulson. Alone. Save for the episodes where he'd carve for hours and hours until the entire blank wall in his office was covered in alien circles and lines. A map to an unknown future. A map to Daisy Johnson.

He's been the director then. And a damn fine one too. As the face of S.H.I.E.L.D., Phil couldn't be seen as anything short of steady and in full control. When the episodes started, everything became complicated. Phil needed someone to watch over him, to glide discreetly between his two personas, and to monitor his deterioration. May was the only one both Fury and Phil trusted for the task. So they hid it from the team. It was one of the hardest years of Phil's life. She knew. She was with him through every emotional toll it took.

_Not that he trusted her enough to let her in anymore_, May thought bitterly. He'd been different since the Framework. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she couldn't escape the feeling that her LMD had done something horrible.

_Or said something._ May swallowed hard. _It wasn't possible... was it? No, even if he had a scan of her brain, there was no way Radcliffe could access something buried that deep._

"Oh, I didn't realize. That should be helpful for monitoring the long-term effects," Jemma said, a forced cheerfulness in her voice.

May cleared her throat, retreating from the shadowy corners of her mind. "How long do I need to be hooked up to this machine?" She queried, gesturing at her arm.

"A few more days at most." Jemma flashed her a reassuring smile, seemingly relieved to be able to confidently answer one of her questions.

"Great," grumbled May. "As though this wasn't fun enough already."

"There is actually one more small... predicament. See, the Kree, ah, well—,"

"They think you're dead." Fitz finished for Jemma. "Kasius's bodyguard left you for roach-food. Nasty piece of work, that Kree, she is."

"So you can't be seen by the Kree guards. Or recognized by anyone else in the Lighthouse, really." Jemma summed up with an apologetic smile.

Melinda raised her eyebrows at Jemma, shooting her a disbelieving look. "So I'm stuck here?"

"For now."

* * *

Words could not capture how relieved Melinda was to be liberated of that horrid Kree machine. It had been just under a week since she'd awoken to the tangled mess of wires and tubes, and she was more than happy to be relieved of it.

She examined her arm—swathed in medical tape and swabs; covered in bruises blooming from the many injection sights; sore as hell. She'd had worse. At least she was alive. And, now she could sleep without that insistent, pestering beeping in her ear.

_The heart rate monitor._ Her newest enemy. It certainly hadn't been in the forefront of her mind as one of her most troubling problems. That was, until she tried to sleep for the first night connected to the infuriating machine.

_Beep... beep... beep... bee..._

She'd been ready to rip it out of her ear and smash it to bits. The only thing that had stopped her was Jemma's insistence that obliterating the piece of equipment could get them all killed.

"_Kasius thinks I'm tending to one of his inhumans. If I bring that equipment back in anything short of perfect condition, someone will pay the price. Likely me. Or worse... an innocent."_

_Or he'll take it out on Daisy, Melinda finished for her. Reluctantly, she relented. "Why does it even have this feature?" May grumbled, tugging at the earpiece that fed the heart-rate monitor into her left ear._

"_Not sure, exactly." Simmons pursed her lips, staring at the Kree technology contemplatively. "Perhaps one of the patients requested it? Perhaps it's beneficial to the Kree healing process?"_

_Jemma fiddled with the machine, a projection-screen flickering to life in front of her. "The last recorded patient who was treated with this equipment was an inhuman by the name of... Amanda Blood. Strange... that was nearly ten years ago. This piece of equipment seems to have been out of commission for a while."_

_The projection disappeared in another flicker of light. "Nothing else unusual." Jemma shrugged. "Perhaps her powers were tied to her pulse rate, like Yo-yo's."_

On one particularly ornery night, she'd taken out the earpiece and let it dangle by her side. To Jemma's horror, the machine cycling the Kree blood through her veins had immediately shut off, as though a kill switch had been hit. After several agonizing seconds, they'd managed to jumpstart the machine with the earpiece fitted securely back in her ear.

She'd nearly given Jemma a heart attack. She wasn't about to do that again.

Since then, Melinda had been forced to live with that mysterious piece of irritating equipment.

The nights were particularly painful and exhausting. She couldn't move, and she couldn't get one spare moment of silence. But nothing had compared to the one time Phil came by to check on her progression. If she'd thought that their relationship had been strained before, that was nothing compared to the awkwardness that had ensued with the retched heart monitor.

_Melinda fiddled with one of the wires, trying to arrange it to a more comfortable position. She grimaced when it pulled at her skin, sending waves of soreness down her arm. It wasn't that she was afraid of needles. No, she was quite indifferent to anything that hurt less than a bullet. It was just the feeling that her veins were outside her skin that troubled her. She felt exposed, vulnerable._

"_Hey. Glad to see you up."_

_May's fingers stilled, her momentary discomfort forgotten. The familiar voice filled her with a warm feeling she didn't want to examine too closely._

"_Took you long enough." She grunted, not bothering to raise her eyes from the Kree machine. "One might even suggest you forgot about me."_

_She received a soft laugh in response. "Who could ever forget about you? I'm pretty sure not even a complete stranger could forget you. Your image is probably burned into Deke's mind, terrorizing him at night—,"_

_May swung out with her right hand, contacting something pliable. Phil let out a surprised _oof_ at the contact. Melinda fought the urge to smile. "Phil, you're being ridiculous."_

"_Yeah?" Phil captured her hand and flipped it over on his knee. "Well, it's working isn't it? You're smiling for the first time in weeks."_

_Melinda pursed her lips, but her weakened state seemed to be betraying her. "You're still terrible at telling jokes, Phil."_

"_Good thing the prophecy doesn't call for a comedian to save the world. They'd be out of luck then." Phil traced a finger down the center of her palm, sending shivers through her bones. Melinda stared, entranced, as Phil examined her hand. "Where'd you get this one? I've never seen it before._" _He mused._

_His fingers traced lazy circles, gliding over ridges in her hand._

_Something was sounding annoyingly in her left ear. Why couldn't she ever get a minute of silence to focus?_

_Melinda didn't realize she was staring at him until he looked up at her expectantly. "May?"_

"_Umm," she shook the fog from her head. How did he do that?_ _She felt like her skeleton had liquified and her muscles had turned to jelly. What were they talking about again? "Uh, that scar came curtesy of Aida. I woke up part of the way through the simulation, and Aida tried to put me down. Radcliffe stepped in to have me sedated. I guess there was something good left in him after all."_

_At the mention of Aida and Radcliffe, Phil froze. He still had her hand captured in both of his, but his fingers stilled._

_May watched him, her concern building with every passing silent second. "Phil?"_

_He shook his head gently, as though withdrawing from a painful memory. May looked up and was surprised to catch the passing shadow of a ghost haunting his eyes. His normally clear blue eyes darkened with some unspoken pain. "Radcliffe hurt a lot of people."_

_Melinda cocked her head. "Well, he did build a murder-bot that tried to kill us all and end the world."_

_Phil coughed out a laugh, weaving his fingers through hers. "We seem to have a lot of trouble with those, don't we? People who try to kill us, I mean." He said quickly. "Not robots. I mean, he did try to replace us all with robots. But they're still relatively uncommon, all things considered—,"_

"_Phil." Melinda cut off his rambling. "Phil, what happened with my robot?"_

_He gave her a startled look, his eyes snapping away from their entwined hands. He started to open his mouth before she cut him off. "No, don't tell me she just 'tried to kill you'. Don't try to lie to me. I can tell when you're lying, Phil. I know all your tells."_

_Phil cleared his throat, bowing his head. Gently, he touched his lips to the back of May's hand. Just a whisper of a kiss. "Melinda..." He breathed, raising his eyes to hers._

_May swallowed hard. He gave her a look that went right through her._

_He reached out a hand, his fingertips brushing her cheek. Belatedly, she noted that it was his real hand, not his robotic hand. Not that it mattered, her mind rambled as his touch short-circuited her thoughts._

"_Melinda," he whispered again. "There's something I—,"_

_May leaned closer, his voice trailing off as her eyes dropped to his lips. She slipped her eyes closed when she felt his breath on her face._

_Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-_

_Footsteps came slamming down the hall, their echoes jarring May out of her trance. She opened her eyes in time to see Phil pull away as though stung. Something akin to self-hatred and horror building in his eyes._

_Hurt, May gently tugged on his hand, trying to get his attention. "Phil, Phil..." But he was already retreating into his own world._

_Jemma came whipping around the corner, out of breath. "The heart monitor... your pulse rate and blood pressure suddenly spiked. Are you alright?" She panted._ _Jemma furrowed her brow, leaning back against the wall, one hand clutching her side. She looked at Phil quizzically. "Sir, I didn't realize you were here."_

"_I was just... stopping by to check on May." Gently, he disentangled his hand from May's. Unfortunately, this did not escape Jemma's notice. Neither did the flush spreading along the ridges of both of her superior's faces._

"_Ah, right." Jemma said slowly. She folded her arms across her chest, before seemingly thinking better of it. She gestured awkwardly back at the door and started to back out of the room. "Well, I can just, um, leave you two to it—,"_

"_Got it! I've got it!" Fitz came bounding around the corner, skidding into the door. "I've jury-rigged a defibrillator just in case she goes into cardiac arrest—,"_

"_Fitz!"_

"_What?" He looked up, suddenly noticing the presence of fourth being in the room. "Ah, sir, didn't see ya there."_

"_It's fine, Fitz." He assured him, subtly inching away from May._

_Fitz looked around at the faces in the room, confusion coloring his eyes. "So... we don't need the defibrillator?"_

_Phil and Fitz left soon after that. Fitz still seemed confused and concerned, but Melinda only saw a cold, hard professionalism in Phil's eyes. He left her with a curt 'goodbye' as her only comfort while Simmons performed a brief, precautionary examination of her vitals._

_She hadn't felt this cold since Phil had shut her out over Fury's assignment to watch and report on his recovery from Project T.A.H.I.T.I._

_Simmons gave her sympathetic glances but didn't pry. She left with a soft murmur reporting a clean bill of health._

_Then May was all alone again. Alone with her new enemy: the heart rate monitor._

**Reviews are always appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3: Necrotizing fasciitis

**Author's Note: **Hello everybody! Much thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed this story! It's very much appreciated and helps to keep me motivated!

In this chapter, we get to check in with Fitz and Simmons. With Jemma controlled by Kasius and Fitz masquerading as a marauder, the two have a lot to work through.

¡Gracias para leer! Thanks for reading!

_Chapter 3: Necrotizing fasciitis_

* * *

"So, the future? And the end of the world? Some would say we've done _literally_ everything now."

Jemma was biting her thumb nail, her eyes transfixed on the rusted wall across from her. She was only half-listening, her mind far away from this particular corridor of the Lighthouse. To be specific, it was about ninety paces north, twenty paces east, and ten floors straight down to where a particularly difficult patient _should be _resting.

"Fitz, I'm worried about May," Jemma said abruptly, catching her other half mid-bite.

He swallowed the apple slice quickly, coughing and pressing a fist against his sternum. _Oh Fitz._ Fitz gave her a quizzical look. "I thought your prognosis was that she presented with rapid tissue regeneration and heightened immune response."

Jemma furrowed her brow. "May has shown impressive wound closure and little to no infection of the tissue. Her recovery has been quite promising…"

"Why do I feel a 'but' coming," said Fitz, his eyebrows raised.

Jemma looked around the corridor cautiously, but there was no one within earshot. "That's just it, Fitz. By the time we found May, her heart was barely beating and the tissues around the wound had already entered necrosis. Once tissue death occurs, there's no way to reverse it. By all standards of modern medicine, there is no reason she should be alive right now."

Fitz, twirling the knife in his hand, slowly sliced away another portion of his yellow-gold apple. "The GH.325 serum brought Coulson back from a similar wound, only his—" Fitz popped a piece of apple in his mouth, his voice momentarily muffled by the golden slice, "was mortal. I don't see why her recovery should be astonishing considering that."

"That procedure was conducted in a controlled environment, likely a classified SHIELD medical facility, not in a postapocalyptic Kree dungeon. And we both know he suffered from a punishing recovery process—,"

"Jemma," Fitz said patiently, "we've been over this."

"I know, I know," Jemma sighed, "It's just… she's been so _cold_."

"Cold? Well, that's not exactly unusual for May, is it. You shouldn't take it personally, Jemma."

"What? No, Fitz," Jemma huffed shaking her head. "Not her _personality_, though I suppose that can be a bit brisk too. I'm referring to her core body temperature. It's been dropping steadily since she and the Director…" Jemma trailed off, at a loss for words. Ever since that incident with the heart monitor, May and Coulson hadn't _exactly_ been on speaking terms.

Fitz nodded, though she wondered if it was simply an automatic response that he'd adapted after years of acting as her sounding board. He cut off another slice, and this time offered it to her. She took it readily, examining it simultaneously with scientific curiosity and a nagging sense of guilt.

Jemma glanced around the corner at the public corridor bisecting their secluded spot. Her eyes traced the few stragglers meandering along the corridor, one of them muttering incessantly to himself. LED red numbers – a brilliant contrast to the flickering, industrial incandescent lights lining every corridor – informed her that it was eighteen hundred hours, sharp. Mealtime, or at least what passed for mealtime in this nightmare world. The Kree would be distributing the nutrient pelts, something reminiscent of the food Jemma used to feed her pet rabbit, Leia, as a little girl. Just the thought made her stomach churn.

She watched the numbers shift, almost instantaneously, declaring that it was now 18:01. As the only official clock in the entire Lighthouse, it was the one reminder that these hellish days weren't endless. The sun rose and set by those blaring red lights. Lives were structured around those four indifferent numbers.

It made her cold down to her bones. Even now, every hour, every minute, every second that slipped away was a reminder that they were losing time. Time to go back and save what in this dimension had already been lost.

"Jemma?"

Jemma shook her head slightly, clearing away the fog. She took a small bite from the apple slice, savoring the sweet juices that filled her mouth, before turning to Fitz. He was leaning against the steel wall, his green eyes wide with concern as he watched the tumultuous expressions flash across her face.

She sighed softly. It was an unbelievable reprieve to be able to hear again. And to hear _his voice_ again – well, that had nearly been the undoing of her.

Kasius was hosting a high-stakes auction, with only the galaxy's most ostentatious elite garnering an invitation. It was to be the event of the millennium: in a fortnight, Kasius would sign over the Destroyer of Worlds to the highest bidder. Kasius would regain his wealth and status and with it, a seat at the galaxy's highest table, where planets and systems were simply pieces in a chess match set in motion at the dawn of time. Some lucky elite would become one of the most dangerous sentients in all of the known worlds, and Daisy … Daisy would be lost to them forever.

In celebration of this galactic event, Kasius had invited his guests to spend two weeks in absolute extravagance on the upper levels of the Lighthouse. Supposedly in a show of good faith, Kasius had granted his guests any luxury within his power. Lavish food and drink, and humans to meet their every need. At Fitz's – or more accurately, the filthy rich and menacing marauder Boshtok's – request, Jemma had been granted to him for the two weeks as a "test run" for her sale in accompaniment with the Destroyer of Worlds. To better suit her buyer's needs, Kasius had temporarily disabled the dampener winding through her ear canal.

This had meant that she'd been working double-time, dividing her endless days between her station at the Lighthouse's infirmary—where she was tasked with ensuring the perfect health of Kasius's inhuman merchandise— and spending every other moment with Fitz.

Jemma's eyes traced over the figure of the man who had garnered even Kasius's reluctant respect. Despite the circumstances, she did have to grudgingly admit that Fitz looked quite handsome in his marauder gear. Normally clear shaven, Fitz sporting a dark scruff that aged his naturally boyish face gave him a roguish, dangerous appearance. His leather jacket was carelessly unzipped, revealing a form-fitting blue shirt that highlighted his sinewy chest and broadened shoulders. A space pirate, she mused with a hint of amusement. He almost had a swag reminiscent of the dashing smuggler, Han Solo, whom she'd crushed on in her youth.

The past few years had been rough on the team, forcing them all to adapt to impossible circumstances. Gone were the days of the awkward and gangly, cardigan wearing scientist. Still… she could see him seeping through the cracks in the way he shifted under her gaze, pulling at the bandana around his neck. He was nervous, slightly self-conscious under her intense scrutiny.

_Fitz._ Her Fitz who had traveled through space and time just to be with her. And now, he was here, and everything was going to be all right. It had to be. She couldn't lose him again. Not this time.

His expression shifted, suddenly displaying blatant worry. "What?" His arms uncrossed from in front of his chest, falling limply to his sides. "Jemma, what's wrong?"

With a start, Jemma realized she was on the brink of tears. _Not again_, she thought irritably. She hadn't even noticed the moisture collecting around the edges of her eyes until one drop fell, slipping over her cheekbone against her will. There would be a reprimand, she knew, if she spoiled any of the meticulous gold paint lining her eyes and covering her forehead. So, it was with the utmost care that she brushed away the one errant tear. _There's no time for this_, she thought, urging her mind to return to its rational and logical form. _We have more important troubles to concentrate on._ Daisy was still in the clutches of Kasius, and a week ago, May had been on her deathbed. Jemma took a steadying breath, letting her eyes slip closed.

She was just _so tired._

The brush of a hand against her jaw startled Jemma from her thoughts. Her eyes flashed open to see that Fitz had moved closer, his hand gently caressing her face. "They'll be all right, Jemma." He said softly, and not for the first time, Jemma wondered if their minds truly were synced together. "We'll get them out of here, I promise."

She nodded, not yet trusting herself for words. She allowed herself a few more seconds to bask in his touch before she took another shuddering breath and achingly stepped away. Once she'd put a few feet between them, she opened her eyes and raised them to his.

Fitz had never been skilled at hiding his emotions. Passing the "Strategic and Undercover Ops" portion of his field exam had nearly given him a nosebleed.

His hand was still suspended, mid-air. Hurt shown through his eyes, and Jemma hesitated, her mouth refusing to form the words she knew he needed to hear. _They had to be more careful. If a guard were to spot them and his cover were blown, they'd both be dead_. The words died on her lips, and for a fleeting moment, Jemma worried that he'd misinterpreted her intentions. That maybe he thought he, and not Kasius, was the monster that haunted her nightmares.

"_Past tense. I killed that too. My future with Jemma is dead."_

The same memory echoed between them, and a heartbeat became an eternity.

A loud crash echoed down the corridor, followed by a savage scream of curses that would have made even Nick Fury blush. It instantly broke the spell.

Jemma whipped around, Fitz on her heels. Together, they peeked around the corner. The old man who had been muttering to himself had fallen. A younger woman, maybe in her mid-thirties (it was hard to tell age in the Lighthouse – the harsh conditions appeared to age everyone prematurely), was kneeling beside him, attempting to calm him down.

"Papa, hush now. You can't say that. The Blues won't like it."

The old man, clearly set in his stubbornness, pulled his hand from between hers. "I can say what I want, Mia. And if those Blue bastards don't like it, they know where they can shove it!"

"Papa, please! You can't speak like that! They have cameras everywhere. They'll know." Then, as if to affirm her paranoia, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. The march of the Kree.

The woman's eyes stretched wide, horror clearly shining in their depths. She suddenly became desperate, frantically urging the older man to stand. Just as Jemma was about to step out to assist the young woman, she was suddenly yanked back behind the corner. "Fitz, what…"

A second later, three burly Kree guards rounded the corner at the opposite end of the corridor. Their cold, black eyes zeroed in on the woman and man in the middle of the floor.

"You two," snarled out the lead Kree, pointing a thick blue finger at the two humans. "No lingering in the corridor."

The woman – Mia – shook her head. "We were just leaving," she said quickly, reaching to grab the man's arm. She gave it a stiff tug, but the man wouldn't budge. Instead, he yanked his arm free from her grasp.

"I'm not going anywhere!" He declared, his chin raised proudly, his eyes glaring at the Kree guards. "You took my home." The old man shook his fist at the Kree. "You stole my life. You killed my family. Now you have the audacity to tell me what I can and cannot do. I won't stand for it! I won't!"

The lead Kree warrior narrowed his eyes, a dark rage building in their abyss. He muttered something in the Kree language to his fellow guards, before turning back to face the two crouched humans. "You're coming with us."

The woman called out in fear, protesting as one of the other guards grabbed her roughly by the arms, dragging her away from her father. Mia struggled, launching herself vainly against her captor. The lead guard turned toward her, an expression of mild annoyance, and struck her across the face.

Jemma let out a small gasp of horror. Fitz pressed a hand over her lips, silencing her cry. The woman was unconscious, her head lolled back as blood dripped from the corner of her lips. Her father, who had showed no fear up until this point, shouted his daughter's name. Fitz-Simmons watched helplessly as the two Kree guards dragged the woman and her father down the corridor, around the corner, and out of sight.

Something hot and livid settled low in Jemma's belly. _We're not your property. _Jemma thought fiercely. _We will fight back, and this time, we will win._

A small, angry protestation escaped her, and despite Fitz's efforts, it echoed softly down the hall. The remaining Kree's head snapped up at the sound. He drew a long, curved knife from his belt. "Who's there?" He demanded, assuming a defensive stance. "Show yourself!"

Fitz and Simmons exchanged concerned looks, a solemn understanding passing between them. Before Jemma could say a word, Fitz suddenly leaned forward and captured her lips with his. He kissed her softly for a heartbeat before gently separating them, leaving Jemma breathless and slightly off-balance.

"Forgive me, Jemma." He whispered then roughly shoved her out into the corridor.

Jemma stumbled, working quickly to mask her automatic response of shock and hurt. When she turned to look at him, her Fitz had vanished. A man unnervingly similar to Leopold, The Doctor, had assumed control of his body. For a terrifying moment, Jemma worried they'd fallen back into the Framework. _It's not real. It's just an act_, she reminded herself. Over and over.

Fitz, now the slick and self-righteous marauder Boshtok, stalked towards her, his bearing predatory. "This," he said smoothly, his voice cold and calculating, "is not the inhuman holding floor. Can you hear me slave, or has Kasius left you as deaf as you are stupid?" he demanded, his upper lip curling in distaste.

Jemma dropped her eyes to the floor, a clear sign of deference. She gave a slight bow of acknowledgement, before risking a glance towards the Kree guard. They'd certainly captured his attention now. He strode towards them, an unreadable expression on his face.

Boshtok glanced up, a look of mock surprise and recognition alighting his features at the sight of the Kree guard. He clasped his hands behind his back and regarded the blue-skinned male with only marginally less distaste than with which he'd looked at Jemma. "Ah, guard. It seems Kasius's slave is disturbingly ill-informed. I commanded her to take me to the inhuman holding floor so I might examine the merchandise. Instead," Boshtok gestured around the corridor, distain dripping from his every word, "she subjected me to this… _squalor_."

The Kree guard stared back at Boshtok, his cold black eyes betraying hints of suspicion. He kept his curved blade clenched in his meaty hand as he evaluated Boshtok, clearly attempting to determine his threat level. Jemma held her breath, not risking a glance at the man next to her.

"Guests are not authorized to access the inhuman holding floor." The Kree said slowly, his thick-accented Basic rumbling off the walls.

"Ah, well, how am I to be assured of the quality of my purchase if I cannot evaluate the merchandise?" Bishtok's eyebrows were raised. He sounded _bored_ as though this whole experience was hardly worth his attention. Still, something lurked in his voice, something dangerous – a warning shot to this Kree who was so far beneath him.

The Kree didn't even blink. His dark black eyes slid over to Jemma, narrowing at her pale-blue, silk garb and gold-painted face. His eyes flicked back to Bishtok. "Kasius has requested your presence in his personal quarters."

Jemma's heart fell through the floor, sharp fear slicing through her chest. She could almost feel Boshtok stumble, small fissures forming in the meticulously constructed persona. "I suppose I could accommodate that request," he said smoothly, his eyes narrowing at the Kree.

The Kree guard stared at Boshtok for a heartbeat before nodding sharply. Jemma tucked both of her hands inside her long, billowing sleeves to hide her trembling fingers. She turned, falling in line behind the Kree as desperate scenarios raced through her mind.

"There is one condition." Jemma froze and turned. She could feel the Kree tense, his hand reaching for a second, hidden blade strapped to his back.

When she looked, she was shocked to see that, although he was still impersonating Boshtok, there was something fierce and resolute shining in his eyes. Something that was fiercely and unmistakably _Fitz_. "I want the Destroyer of Worlds present. I need to see this _legend_ with my own eyes."

* * *

**AN: Now that I've set the stage, let the action begin!**

**Stay tuned for appearances from Yoyo, Mack, and Deke (poor, ridiculous Deke). **

**Reviews are always appreciated!**


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